A Stolen Christmas
by Their Inner Thoughts
Summary: It has been eight years since the Darling children returned from Neverland. A lot has happened since then, and just when everything seems to be going well, tragedy strikes. Written for the prompt: Write the saddest Christmas story you can think of. (AU that will play a part in a future story of mine.) Read and Respond. Questions welcome. (New chapter!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All familiar characters rightfully belong to J. M. Barrie. I only claim ownership of David.

December 25, 1911

They had planned to celebrate late into the night, singing and laughing and telling stories. They had planned to pass around presents and goodies and spend time together in merriment. They had planned to enjoy each other's company while the eldest child of the household was journeying with her soon-to-be-fiancé. They had planned to return to their beds that night with joyful and light hearts. Yet, what happened was the exact opposite.

The harpsicord was not touched, the books never opened. The presents were forgotten, and the sweets were thrown away. There were no glistening mirth-filled eyes, or belly-shaking laughter. There were no stories told or jokes filling the atmosphere. There was only one toast given, but a toast that proved too late; a toast that fell to the ground and shattered upon the wooden floorboards.

That night no one fell asleep without their eyes red and puffy. That night no dreams were held, but nightmares reigning fast. That night only wailing and sobs could be heard throughout the house. That night was to be remembered as the worst night in the history of this close-knit family.

These horrors began when the eldest child left to go to America with the man with whom she was in courtship. Her younger siblings and parents and aunt saw her to the ship and bade her to write them once they had stepped foot upon the foreign soil. It was on her birthday that they had left upon the recreated _S.S. Maria_ ; the first day of her first and twentieth year she would spend upon the waters of the Atlantic.

Little could anyone have imagined that the very next day these same waters would swell in a temptress and crash upon the ship, causing much cargo to violently move about the deck and threaten to be swept away. Two days out from the harbor, the weather turned against the sailors and passengers, the winds becoming unruly and barbaric. Only one period of a few minutes did it cease and the waters seem to abate their dangerous course. The young woman, coming now to stand on deck to look at the peaceful waters ran to the side of the ship and gasped as she beheld the great moon.

"David, look upon the reflection of the moon!" She cried to her companion. "How powerful and beautiful it appears!" But as the said man turned to look in her direction, the ship lurched to that side and a monstrous wave overtook the lady and carried her to the depths of the dark sea. In horror, the man screamed her name and desperately searched the water's surface for any source of life; but it was in vain.

The ship's captain turned its course back to England and made port Christmas morning. The few passengers that were in the ship returned to land quickly, while the man, David, sat in the last spot his lady stood. The captain placed a hand on his shoulder and helped the man up, carrying his luggage to the dock and waving down a horse and buggy.

David sat in the buggy silently, tears streaming down his face and falling upon the luggage held tightly in his arms. His body shook and his mind reeled with the realisation of what had happened barely three days prior. Jolted was he from these thoughts only when the buggy halted, the door at which they stopped held promises of celebration soon to be ruthlessly trampled.

The man, paying the driver what money he had in his pocket, climbed numbly out of the buggy and slowly staggered to the door. He placed the luggage beside him and raised his hand to the door knocker. Softly he lifted and dropped the brass ornament five times, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging, the tears again streaming down his dirty face.

With the opening of the door came a brightly-faced man, whose rare expression changed within milliseconds of seeing his soon-to-be son's state. "David? W-what has-?"

David wept openly, sobs escaping his mouth, unholy and distraught. "She's been taken by the sea! My bird is lost and I am to blame!" He fell into the man's bosom and clung to him as a man in death's grip. "You must kill me for my sins, Sir!"

The man's glass jumped from his hand and crashed to the floor, shattering into an infinity of pieces, its sparkling champagne mixing with the finely ground crystal and seeping into the floorboards. The man wrapped his arms around David and helped him in the house, setting him down upon the couch where he wept into his shoulder.

The man's wife retrieved the luggage and locked the door to the outside world, their own suddenly crashing in upon them.

David's tears stained the man's suit and he screamed with such passion that he could not be stopped. Words begging for forgiveness in death at the man's hand fell from his lips, erratic and uncontrolled was he in his behavior. It was not until the man placed his hands upon David's shoulders and stared at him in the eyes, his own red and tears covering his cheeks, that David stopped.

"My son, you are not the cause of her demise, nor are responsible for what happened. No one could have known that this event would take place on a day such as this. God in His mercy spared you so that, though I lost a daughter, I have gained a son."

For the remainder of the night, the two men clung to each other and wept, their words of sorrow and pain were mixed with the saltiness of their tears, staining each other's clothes and cheeks. They found comfort in sharing their pain with the other, understanding that God would make this event to be prosperous in some near or distant future.

It was in the days that followed that everyone in the household realised how much one life meant to them; how one life kept them together and whole; and how that same life would be kept alive in their hearts through the memories they had of her. It was in those moments that they realised how much time they wasted worrying about reality, that they failed to take time for the joy found in another reality; in Wendy Darling's Neverland.


	2. Chapter 2

This is an original idea I created. It goes along with the previous chapter in that David had Wendy's book published, as well as a line or so that I hinted at before... Read and review.

 _"_ _And though I do not know whether I shall ever return to Neverland, I know this: That no matter how much time passes, or how many children forget, there shall always be a Neverland that teaches those who are willing, that the greatest adventures are those that change the heart."_

 _(The author of this book wrote it with such passion and love that their very life was breathed into it. Unfortunately, a tragedy struck before the publication of this masterpiece… And in the words of Wendy Darling regarding the Captain of the Jolly Roger, 'He taught me to be free and wild as the sea, dangerous in words written on paper, yet harboring emotions no one could release without force,' these words were a foresight to what was to happen to the dear Wendy a few short days after her twenty-first birthday; as she was suddenly taken by the longing sea to again be the Captain's Temptest.)_

He placed the open book upon his desk, the words staring back at him with silent, but strong accusation. Bewilderment overcame the man as he again read the last paragraph. "To think that she would voice such words with such power and certainty," the man considered. "The strength of forgiveness she had within her, even until the moment of her death, I can never surpass."

And so, the man closed Wendy Darling's _Peter Pan_ , leaving it upon his desk as he stood and walked towards his bedroom door. As he began to depart, he stole a glance back at the well-recorded manuscript, his mind curious as to the author's understanding of things vague and undetermined. Shaking his head, the man exited his room and his boots thudded upon the wooden floors as he descended the stairs and entered the living room. Passing the many portraits that hung on the large walls throughout the house, he stopped at one in particular, studying the intriquate design and detail put into it. With a smirk, he continued walking into the kitchen, "Well it seems Wendy haunts you still. In life with her actions, and in death, with her niece's portrait of you."

As his form disappeared behind the kitchen door, a cool breeze entered the room and caused the candle to flicker across the last portrait in the room, that which the man studied; that, of James Hook.


End file.
